


a villain is simply a hero who hasn’t been taught

by HiBlue



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Author is Not a Dream Apologist (Video Blogging RPF), Dubious Morality, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mild Gore, Moral Ambiguity, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, awesamdude is having a crisis, however I am a tommyinnit apologist and I will extend some sympathy to Quackity, quackity is just living his best life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-28 03:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30133359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiBlue/pseuds/HiBlue
Summary: CHAPTER TWO: GUILTY CONSCIOUSTommy had never run away from anything in his life. He’d had to be dragged kicking and screaming out of L’Manburg both times, and he hadn’t run from Dream. He simply hadn’t.And anyone who had anything different to say could take it up with his fucking fists.But now he’d been to hell and back, like his soul was a rag doll that Dream could yank about as he pleased. And for the first time in his life, Tommy wanted to turn away and hide from the world. Tommy couldn’t even run if he wanted to, now. Dream had to die. And the Warden was standing in his way.—————————a series of one shots/drabbles on dreamsmp characters and their convoluted moral systems ^•^
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity & Clay | Dream, Alexis | Quackity & Jschlatt, Alexis | Quackity & Sam | Awesamdude, Alexis | Quackity & TommyInnit, Sam | Awesamdude & TommyInnit
Kudos: 65





	1. Quackity Thinks Torture Is a Very Girlboss Move

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's on the tin

_ Mary, have mercy, now look what I've done _

  
  


There was blood on the walls, blood on his hands, and Quackity knew there was rotten about him then. 

Because contrary to the guilt, the disgust, the  _ horror  _ he should have felt about what he had just done? Quackity...Quackity felt fucking  _ alive.  _ He looked down at the sniveling mess at his feet, and he couldn’t help the smile that stretched across his face now.

“Dream, I don’t think you understand me very clearly at all,” Quackity crooned. He squatted down onto his haunches, fisting a hand around matted hair and yanking up Dream’s head. 

“Now I’m a  _ reasonable  _ man, Dream. I don’t like doing unnecessary things. But see here, now—“ Quackity tightened his grip around Dream’s hair, his grin growing wider at the look on the bastard’s face. 

“You’re playing games with me again, Dream, and I don’t like that.” Quackity released his grip, saw how Dream immediately scrambled backwards, just out of hand’s reach. 

“This is the third time I’ve visited, Dream. Things aren’t going to change. Sam isn’t going to save you.” Quackity scratched his face. His scar was starting to itch. 

“You-you can’t do this, Quackity. This isn’t, I’m not going to  _ fucking  _ tell you anymore, Quackity. Last time—“ Dream’s voice shook, the cracks in his mask revealing frantic eyes. 

“I told you everything you needed to know, Quackity. It won’t work if it’s not me, I don’t know why you aren’t listening to me,” Dream began again, only for his voice to peter off as Quackity slowly raised the Warden’s Axe.

“You know what I think,  _ Dream _ ? I think you’re lying through your teeth.” Quackity said in a bored voice, gently swinging the axe in his hands back and forth. 

The wall of lava cast a harsh orange glow on Dream’s face, exposing how his eyes were glued on the axe’s every movement. 

“And I understand that you’re adjusting to this new situation, I get that.” Quackity approached Dream again, swallowing the slowly rising bile in his throat. He needed to do this. He needed to let Dream know that he wasn’t one of his little toys that he could play with, he was the  _ real fucking deal.  _

“But I’m going to need you to  _ sharpen  _ up, pal. You seem to forget, I’m the only one who’s going to be here. No one else. I was trying to be nice, but then you had to be difficult and play your little  _ games. _ ” Quackity tightened his grip on his axe, flipping his shears out from his pocket into his free hand. 

At that, Dream turned away scornfully, facing the lava. Even a caged rat had his pride, Quackity supposed. 

“Since you like playing games so much, Dream, I made one up, just for you!” Quackity grinned widely, every single one of his seventeen teeth on display. 

“It’s very simple, you see? I ask questions, and you answer them, and if you get the answer wrong, you’ll have to pay up.” 

Dream was silent in response, his body slumped against the wall. It took a few gentle slaps for Quackity to ascertain that he had indeed passed out. 

Huh. 

“Were you just out that entire time? That’s, uh. That’s unfortunate.” Quackity muttered, scratching his scar with the shears. In a matter of seconds, all of Quackity’s bravado deflated, the edges of his growing doubt eating at his will to continue. 

The heat from the lava had dried the blood on Quackity’s hands and face, forming a crust that felt like a second skin that was far too tight. Power, Quackity reminded himself. This whole thing was a power-play, and he couldn’t let Dream win. 

“SAM!” Quackity yelled at the wall of lava. “He fell asleep on me again. I think I’m gonna have to continue this tomorrow.” 

_ But don't blame me because I can't help where I come from _

Consequences. Actions have consequences, unless, of course, you were powerful enough to crush those in your way. But Dream had been running up his debt for far too long, and now the tables were turned. The house had come to collect, and it was time for Dream to pay up. 

That was what Quackity would’ve told Sam, if he had felt like being half honest. As it was, Sam was too caught up in how Tommy had died, and not nearly enough on what his death and subsequent revival  _ meant.  _ Quackity didn’t understand how Sam wasn’t as eager as he was, when the ability to bring back people from the dead was  _ right there.  _ Right at his fingertips, and he just sat there, day after day wallowing over someone who was  _ alive.  _

Maybe that was it, then. Sam wasn’t fully appreciating what it was like, to be truly powerless and to have to really,  _ really  _ feel it. For the first time, Sam had fucked up so bad and he couldn’t wrap his little morals to fit with the reality of the world. 

He liked Sam, he did. He wouldn’t have proposed to be business partners if he didn’t think Sam was capable. Quackity  _ respected  _ Sam, was well aware of the power he held as the Warden. 

That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to use Sam when he was so easily given an opening. A good businessman always took advantage of new opportunities, and Quackity had learned from the best. 

Yeah, Schlatt won that fucking bet. But the thing was, they’d bet on Quackity’s terms. This time around,  _ he  _ was the House. 

And you know what they say, don’t you?

The House always,  _ always _ wins. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's a difference between being morally grey and just being plain evil. quackity's really about to make dream apologists go nuts


	2. guilty conscious pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's time for Sam and Tommy to have a nice little talk. Well, Tommy talks. Sam's just sad.

_ And running is something that we've always done well _

Tommy had never run away from anything in his life. He’d had to be dragged kicking and screaming out of L’Manburg both times, and he hadn’t run from Dream. He simply hadn’t. 

And anyone who had anything different to say could take it up with his fucking fists. 

But now he’d been to hell and back, like his soul was a rag doll that Dream could yank about as he pleased. And for the first time in his life, Tommy wanted to turn away and hide from the world. Tommy couldn’t even run if he wanted to, now. Dream  _ had  _ to die. And the Warden was standing in his fucking way. 

He and Ranboo had been working on the watchtower, and Ranboo had just left to get more supplies. Tommy was just taking a short break, sitting on the banks of the river overlooking the Prison. 

It wasn’t enough that Tommy had trusted him, and that he had considered him genuinely to be a friend. That he was the reason Tommy hadn’t thrown himself face first into lava, because  _ he promised  _ that Tommy wouldn’t be stuck in there with Dream for long. It wasn’t enough that Tommy fucking begged him,  _ begged  _ him to keep that promise. It wasn’t enough. Tommy was still beat to death in that miserable little cell,  _ because _ Sam was doing the very best he could. Well, Sam’s best wasn’t fucking enough.

And maybe, maybe a lifetime ago Tommy would have held it to him with that righteous rage he used to live and breathe. Maybe he really would have sued Sam, would have dragged him out into the daylight and appointed himself judge, jury and jailer of the Warden. 

Because Sam truly could not handle being the Warden. That kind of power, with literally no one who could or who cared to hold him accountable. And Prime, but everyone liked Sam. He was a good guy, he was just trying his best, he’d never destroyed anything or caused anyone damage, he  _ helped  _ you, Tommy, where no one else would’ve batted an eye in your direction. 

Sam cared about Tommy, and it wouldn’t have been the truth to say that was a statement that only held in the past tense. 

That was the worst part, Tommy felt. Sam wasn’t,  _ hadn’t  _ been a relationship that was difficult. It was a structured relationship that had clear rules and boundaries and expectations and Tommy had allowed his hope to seep in little by little. Sam was new, and Sam was  _ cool.  _ Somewhere along the line he thought Sam was his friend, because it had been so long since someone had promised him anything and actually kept his word. 

Tommy picked up a fistful of small rocks and chucked it towards the prison, cursing as some of the dirt blew back onto his face. 

He couldn’t even go into the hotel now, not without a sour taste filling his mouth. Even with Sam Nook’s ever-loyal presence, the robot ultimately reported to Sam, the Warden. Nothing Tommy built ever stayed. 

_ And mostly I can't even tell what I'm running from _

At this point, Tommy didn’t even know what he would say if Sam showed up, trying to stop him from building his watchtower. 

What would Sam do if Tommy managed to break into the prison and kill Dream, he wondered.

He would just kill him dead, just like it was spelled out on the damn contract. Tommy snorted bitterly, picked up another rock to throw at the prison. Sam would kill Tommy before he let Dream die, out of his control. This, Tommy knew. 

Tommy had been watching the comings and the goings of the Vault, day in and day out since he was resurrected. He saw a hooded figure had been entering and exiting with more blood on his hands as each day passed, had heard Quackity mumbling about Dream and the book under his breath when he had thought no one was around. 

Clearly, the prison wasn’t on lockdown like it was when Tommy had been trapped with Dream. Tommy could connect the dots from there. Sam wanted the book as well, probably thought that he would finally have total control over the prison if he had it. Sam would bend  _ his own rules _ , the ones that he had condemned Tommy to, if it was worth enough to him. 

Clearly, Tommy wasn’t. Which was actually understandable, all things considered. There was very little Tommy could do well, and even less that he could do that made people happy. Tommy looked back at the watchtower, a modge podge of oak and spruce planks that he was aware looked an eyesore to the others.

A shadow fell over him, and Tommy looked up to see familiar pitch black eyes staring back down at him. Sam. The creeper hybrid was clad from head to toe in shimmering netherite, but there appeared to be no weapon in sight. 

Tommy scrambled up and backed away, a trident flicking into his hand from his inventory, his face instantly twisted into a sneer. 

“The fuck you want, Sam?” 

Even as tall and armored as he was, Sam seemed to crumple in on himself at the vicious tone Tommy had taken. Tommy resisted the urge to start swinging and bash Sam’s stupid head in, to smash that horrible  _ look  _ on his face to pieces. 

“You know that you’re not allowed in the prison, Tommy.” Sam sounded tired, like talking itself was a strain.

“I’m not allowed to build, then? Since when do you own every square inch of land that ever existed? Huh?” Tommy could feel some kind of weird panic scrabbling up his throat, his instincts screaming as Sam walked closer to him. No weapon in sight, yet. The moment he saw even the faintest flicker of a blade he was running. 

“And don’t give me any of your Warden bullshit, this isn’t anywhere near your precious prison!” Tommy waved his spare hand at the river that separated the tower from the prison. It was a fairly weak argument, considering how the tower had been strategically built where the river narrowed closest to the prison, but that wasn’t the point. Sam wasn’t dense, Tommy could see his eyes narrowing at him. 

“Tommy, I know that you’re going to try and break in to kill Dream. Sam Nook told me. And I’m telling you that that’s not going to work out well for you,” Sam began, before Tommy snorted and looked away, the turn of his head revealing the still-healing bruises on his jaw and neck. 

“It’s not going to work out well for me?  _ It’s not going to work out for me _ ,  _ Sam?  _ It  _ didn’t  _ work out for me, Sam, that’s the issue. I’m a dead man walking, and the way it’s going I reckon it’s not long before we all are.” Tommy whipped his gaze back, his pale eyes boring straight into Sam. 

“I asked for one thing from you, Sam.  _ One thing.  _ Don’t let anyone in to see Dream. No one goes in, no one goes out.” Tommy spat on the ground and turned his back on the man. “I fucking died for your stupid contract, and there you go ahead, just letting any random guy walk in and cut up Dream for the book, I reckon.” 

“Is that what Quackity told you?” Sam said lightly. Too lightly. Did he think Tommy was stupid? He owed nothing to Sam, not a single word or explanation. 

Tommy turned, bared his teeth in some mockery of a smile. 

“So you  _ were  _ letting people in after all. Do you know, Sam? All your rules, your contracts, they don’t mean shit if they meant so little to you in the first place.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's sam's turn next chapter.


End file.
